


Aviator Gossip

by Caria



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 06:26:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3885808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caria/pseuds/Caria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laurence makes an unwelcome discovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aviator Gossip

**Author's Note:**

> If the podfic is up on here, I guess I might as well put up the text version! A very short fic inspired by  
> [this post](http://goddamnshinyrock.tumblr.com/post/102351616675/and-then-would-you-credit-it-he-blushed-after) about gossiping aviators by goddamnshinyrock, aka micaceous. Originally posted [here](http://henryiiofficial.tumblr.com/post/116115328120/so) on tumblr.
> 
> Warning: contains minor spoilers for book 7, and no plot or redeeming value whatsoever. Thanks to muigiel for the beta!

As the voyage to South America progressed, Laurence found that the long hours of idleness on board the Allegiance had left him increasingly preoccupied with the issue of Emily and Demane. The incident in Sydney continued to prey on his mind; while the addition of a chaperone to their crew was certainly a comfort, the fact that he had felt the action necessary at all made him worry that perhaps he had not done enough to instil respectable standards of behaviour in his charges.

“I do not mean to moralize unnecessarily,” Laurence confessed to Granby that evening, when the two of them were alone in his cabin and Laurence felt comfortable enough to broach the topic over a bottle of wine and an offhand game of cards. “But I cannot help but worry that they will make themselves a subject of unwelcome gossip, whether or not anything should happen between them. They are neither of them particularly discreet, I am sorry to say.”

“Well, I shouldn’t let that worry you too much,” Granby said thoughtfully. “The corps has always been a hive for gossip; there’s not much hope for avoiding it in anyone’s case.” 

“Really?” said Laurence, surprised. He had not found aviators to be particularly talkative himself, certainly not more than any other branch of service.

“Oh, it’s a long-standing tradition, I’m afraid. We’re all boxed in together with only each other and our dragons, after all; it’s little wonder everyone knows everyone’s business. Sometimes rather more intimately than we might like,” he added, with a slightly haunted look that Laurence immediately understood, and did not inquire into; a life on board a ship had made him privy to certain details about his fellow officers he could have gladly gone his entire life without knowing. 

“In any case,” Granby continued, visibly recalling himself to the conversation at hand, “it’s nothing worth concerning yourself with; romantic gossip is common enough that no one pays it any serious thought, and we don’t tend to share it with outsiders.”

“I see,” said Laurence, still somewhat taken aback by this intelligence. “I confess I hadn’t noticed anything of the kind.” He frowned a little; he could not say he was sorry to be left out of such talk, but the implication that he might still be considered an outsider stung rather more than it ought.

Granby gave him an amused look over his glass. “That’s probably because you rather give the impression that if someone were to ask you an impertinent question about the Admiral, you’d knock them down.”

“Well,” said Laurence, unable to deny this. Not that he particularly wished to; he might have bent respectability enough to engage in intimate activities with an unmarried officer, but he would have sooner lit himself on fire than dishonour her by discussing those activities with anyone else. If such a reputation barred him from indecent gossip, he could only be grateful for it.

“I suppose you’re confident in Roland’s discretion, then, if someone were to ask her something similar about you?” Granby asked, when Laurence had said as much.

“Of course,” said Laurence, looking at him in surprise. Roland was, if perhaps not entirely ladylike by some standards, still a woman of character and surely above such talk. “In any case,” he added, “I certainly can’t imagine that anyone should want to ask her anything of the sort.”

Granby raised his eyebrows. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, as if gauging whether or not he really wanted to continue this line of conversation. After a moment he said, “Laurence, I think perhaps you are forgetting that there are female aviators in the corps.”

Laurence was nonplussed. “Well, of course, but surely… that is… women do not discuss those sorts of things. Do they?” he asked, abruptly uncertain; the idea had not previously occurred to him. 

Granby only shrugged, unhelpfully.

“I’m sure I don’t know, but I can’t see why not,” Granby said. “I know Roland has dinner with St. Germaine whenever they’re both in the area. They came up together in the service, from what I’ve heard; I don’t imagine they have many secrets from one another. And I do see her talking privately with Harcourt some nights…”

Laurence received these disturbing revelations with a rising sense of dread; at this last piece of intelligence he took an involuntary drink.

“Oh, go on, Laurence,” Granby said, perhaps attempting to be comforting; the corner of his mouth was quirking suspiciously, but his tone was not unkind. “Roland is a professional, after all. I’m sure she’d not tell them anything too damning.”

Laurence’s head snapped up. “Like what?” he demanded.

Granby blinked in surprise. “Lord, I don’t know. I only meant that she wouldn’t say anything that might compromise your authority.”

“Why, whatever are you implying?” Laurence said, staring at him in horror. Surely Granby didn’t know…?

“Nothing, specifically. I was only speaking generally,” Granby said slowly, now staring at Laurence in turn. “Why? What are you thinking of?”

Laurence was by now beginning to realize he may have overreacted. “I… nothing. Pray forget it,” he muttered into his wineglass. He felt heat creeping into his cheeks, and hastily sought to occupy himself with his cards.

After a few moments of silence Laurence risked a look at Granby, and immediately regretted it; Granby was sitting back in his chair and contemplating him with an expression that had shifted from confusion to a slightly alarmed, open delight. Laurence snapped his gaze back to his wineglass, face burning, and vaguely considered attempting to drown himself in it.

“I believe it’s your hand, John,” he said firmly, determined to ignore him.

“This is my favourite conversation we’ve ever had.” 

Laurence felt that his dignity was sufficiently compromised by this point to indulge in throwing Granby a very dirty look; unfortunately, he suspected the effect was rather undercut by the fact that his face was still bright red. He gave it up, and only prayed Granby would let the point drop.

To his credit, Granby was at last beginning to look sympathetic, if still altogether too pleased for Laurence’s comfort, and graciously allowed himself to be drawn back into the game when Laurence made another feeble attempt to revive it.

The conversation soon moved on, and if Granby’s grin did not entirely disappear for the rest of the evening, Laurence was grateful enough to overlook it.


End file.
